The Rise of the Fallen
by WhereTheShadowsDie
Summary: A year after their coronation, Peter and Edmund must prove that they can banish the fear of the past, even when treachery and deceit lurk in the shadows, waiting to strike.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"I'll be back soon, I promise. The Ettin Giants have never felt the full might of Narnia before, and they're in for a surprise," I said, trying to console the girl who still hung onto my shirtsleeve as we said goodbye, even though she knew it was a very unladylike thing to do. "They'll be dead before they know they've been hit. You'll see me by next Chilling Moon, Lu."

"But that's two months! And what if you get hurt?" I couldn't help but smile at my littlest (and, in all truthfulness, favorite) sister's anxiety, but she was right. After the last attack, where nine of my ribs had been broken, even _I_ wasn't sure if I was ready to go back and face the Giants. I didn't have much of a choice though, because lately they'd started attacking the small villages along the border.

I crouched down to her eye-level and took both of her hands in mine. "Then you'll just have to save some of your Cordial for me. I'll be fine, Lucy, really. I'll make sure Su keeps you busy enough learning all that 'decorum' – " I shuddered, drawing a laugh from her, " – and you'll be all swept up in how to say 'I hate you' without anybody realizing what you really said, that you won't notice I'm gone until I'm back."

She looked up at me with big blue eyes, still a child and yet so much older. "Promise?"

I watched her gravely. "On my sword, my crown, my kingdom, and my honor, fair Lady," making her laugh again. I pulled her forward into a hug and she squeezed the breath out of me. I planted a quick kiss onto the top of her head and pulled away, standing up as I did so.

Susan stepped forward, radiant in deep purple and bright red, black curls hanging loose, to hug me goodbye. When we parted, I kissed her swiftly on the cheek, making her smile and shake her head at how undignified I was.

I turned towards Edmund, who was watching me with impatience and concern in his dark eyes. "Can't wait for me to be off, can you, Ed?" I asked, grinning at his expression. He scowled at me, and I ruffled his hair, causing his glower to turn into a grimace, which was the equivalent to a smile when it was before 9:00 in the morning. My brother's cheerful disposition (and lack thereof) in the morning is legendary.

I gave one last hug to Lucy and climbed onto Linotta, a feisty mare who loved going fast and, though she couldn't talk, knew how to make herself understood. "Ready?" I called to Oreius. The stately Centaur nodded and the war party moved forward. I glanced back for a second to see my siblings waving from Cair Paravel. I raised a hand in farewell, then turned and kicked the mare into a gallop. I would fulfill my promise to Lucy and get back as quickly as I could.

* * *

><p>We camped in Owlwood, halfway between Cair Paravel and Ettinsmoor, that night. It had been a long ride and all were tired, though none could fall asleep. I stared into the fire that was just outside my tent and thought of home. Not even a day had passed and already I missed my family.<p>

The sound of hoof-beats brought me out of my reverie and I looked up into Oreius' face. The Centaur looked down at me from his great height with sympathy in his eyes; he, too, knew what it was like to be away from his family, facing a war that he probably wouldn't return home from. All great fighters have that first, nerve-wracking battle, and though this one was far from my first, it was the first one in which Edmund wouldn't be beside me. I drew strength from Edmund, and he from me, but here, I was alone. Oreius understood that, for during a guerilla strike at an army supply cache when the White Witch was still in power, Oreius had lost his brother, a Centaur I had never known.

"It is late, my King, and you must sleep," he said in his deep, rumbling voice. I nodded and stood, bowing slightly. He returned my gesture, with a much deeper bow, and left, his hooves crunching the brittle autumn leaves as he walked. I watched the fire for a little while more, and then stood and slipped into my tent. Lying down, I could still see the faint glow of the dying embers through the flap. I fell asleep with that image in my head.

* * *

><p>I woke to a hand clamping an iron grip over my mouth. To no avail, I struggled and yelled, trying to draw attention to the fact that I was being captured in the middle of an army camp, but nothing worked. I kicked and flailed wildly at my attackers with the knife that was under my pillow, my training forgotten, for the sake of needing <em>air.<em> Already my vision was growing fuzzy, gray around the edges. I heard a muffled grunt and realized one of my feet must have hit its mark. The grip on my mouth loosened slightly, and I sucked in all the air I could before my supply was cut off again. I thrashed about, still unable to break free, then something hit my head, hard, and then there was nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I woke to mist.

It swirled around me in hypnotizing patterns, curling and uncurling, looping around and under, coiling and twisting, intertwining and winding and weaving itself into complex knots, then dispersing, as though there were no tangles to begin with.

I was in a garden. There was green all around but it had an ethereal feeling, as though I could reach out to touch it and my fingers would simply pass through. It was as if the Garden was there, yet not, around this corner one moment, but around another the next, through this door one day, but through that door another. Fog obscured most of the Garden; here and there, I could get a glimpse of a plant, and then it would disappear, covered by the vapor. There was no sign of the skies to which I was crowned, not even a faint tinge of the clear, heady blue that Narnia is known for. The mist was not silvery, as it normally is in Narnia, but more like a dull gray, dingy, the color of ashes, and it did not float, as mist usually seems to; it flowed languidly, like water in a lazy stream, slow and continuous.

A tendril of it reached out, surrounding me, but I walked through it. A narrow path, cobbled with smooth river stones of various shades of gray, ran to the south, towards what looked to be the center of the Garden, where I could see the extraordinarily faint outline of an enormous fountain, water pouring from its many spigots, though the overwhelming fog made the details of it incredibly difficult to make out. There were low walls lining the path, made of the same gray stones, and vines and trees grew all around, though none of them had the life of the occupied Trees of Narnia. It was cold in the Garden, and I shivered, though no wind blew.

I looked down at myself, still in the clothes I had worn to bed; a white nightshirt and black pants, but there was a belt around my waist, holding an unfamiliar sword. It wasn't Rhindon, for there was no Lion's head on the pommel, but an unadorned gray blade in a black sheath. Black leather was wrapped skillfully around the steel handle, and it was cold to the touch, almost so that it hurt. On the blade there were strange markings, letters, it seemed, though not in a tongue that I knew, nor in any familiar runes. I would have thought it Dwarves' work, were it not for their belief that anything plain can be made beautiful and should be. There were black leather boots as well, of Narnian make.

There was no sign of my unknown captors.

I took a step forward, hoping to break free of the mist, but the shroud of fog showed no sign of thinning. I was looking towards the north, as the mountains of Ettinsmoor were facing me, high and majestic above the horizon, their snowy peaks obscured by the gray clouds that were ominous reminders of the fast-approaching winter. They loomed out of the mist, and from their distance, I could tell that I was near the center of Narnia.

I took another step, and turned at the sound of running footsteps and – more importantly – galloping hooves.

I saw a girl sprinting towards me, skirts hiked up, glancing behind her every now and then. With each look, her expression grew more and more terrified. She saw me and her eyes widened slightly, but she ran faster, nearly flying over the grass, which was wet from the mist. She almost collided with me when she skidded to a stop.

"You have to come with me! We have to run! Come! Come! They will find you, and hurt you, and they will try to kill you! We must run!" She was breathless, but somehow I understood her every word. I glanced at the figures. Each of them rode a gray horse, and their cloaks, which concealed their faces, were the same dull gray as the mist. I saw one raise a sword.

I ran.

* * *

><p>We tore through bushes and under trees, over grass, and, once, leaped over a small stream. The girl kept pace with me somehow, and the riders never seemed to catch us, even though we were on foot and they were on horses.<p>

Every time the girl looked back, she sped up, spurred on by fear. I did not know why she was so scared, but the horror of the unknown is not something that I haven't encountered before. I have faced down the Witch herself, but _this_, these gray riders, made me run for my life as I have never run before.

I saw a door, looming out of the mist. Dark, gray stone that I was sure would be locked, but the girl threw herself into it. "Help me!" she cried, pushing again. I did so, slamming my shoulder against it. I felt something crack, bones snapping out of place, and sucked in a breath, gritting my teeth to keep from crying out. We pushed again, and the door slowly, oh so slowly, creaked open. We dashed through, and she kept running, but I turned back, pushing the door closed. "What are you doing?" she asked, sounding close to panic.

"Stalling them," I grunted, as I shut the door with a loud bang. "Come on!"

We ran through the trees, darting frantically around obstacles. I waited to feel the sharp pain of a dagger in between my shoulder blades, but none came. We weren't dodging arrows, but tree branches. I looked behind and didn't see anything chasing us.

I slowed to a stop in a clearing, catching the girl's hand to halt her. "I don't think that they're following us anymore," I panted. Then, remembering my manners, "my Lady."

The girl paused, and turned towards me. Curtsying slightly, she bowed her head in the traditional Narnian fashion. "My Lord, might I ask you your name?"

"Yes, fair Lady. I am Peter, High King of Narnia."

Her eyes widened, and for the first time, I paid attention to what she wore - a plain, gray dress and slippers. Like Susan, her hair was black, and, like Susan, it hung loose and long, hanging down past her shoulders to her middle back. Her eyes were steel gray, the same color as her dress, which rustled softly as she curtsied again. "Your Majesty."

"And what is your name, Lady?"

"Sire, I am Ru Grae."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I bowed, inclining my head slightly. "Lady Grae, do you have a home where I could take you? I must get back to the army –"

"No! I have no home!" She paused, blushing at her lack of countenance. "Sire, I beg your pardon."

"It is granted, Lady. The trauma of the Garden, I'm sure."

She nodded quickly, seizing the excuse. "Sire, I have no place to stay. All I remember is the Garden. I do not know where I came from."

I thought for a moment. Ettinsmoor is no place for a Lady, especially one as distressed as the Lady Grae was. Cair Paravel, though . . .

"My Lady, if you go east, towards the Sea, you should find a road. It leads to the Castle Cair Paravel, where my siblings, I'm sure, would be happy to let you stay until we find more suitable accommodation for you."

"Sire, please! Don't make me go alone! They'll find me, and take me. Please!" she cried, catching my sleeve and falling to her knees in supplication, terror from the past written all over her face.

I pulled her to her feet. I don't like it when people beg. It makes me feel as though I'm forcing them to do something. "Please, Lady, don't. Come with me if you must, but as soon as we are there, I will send an escort with you to keep you safe from harm, but I cannot leave my army with no inclination as to where I am."

"Sire, thank you, thank you!"

I nodded, and turned, about to start walking, when a needle of pain, sharp as my dagger, stabbed into my shoulder and I gasped. I'd forgotten about the injury because of fear, something that I had been taught _never_ to do. Many a soldier has died because they forgot about the fatal wound that would be the end of them, for the sake of running due to terror of a different death. I felt it gingerly, and the feeling of bones in the wrong places told me what I'd already known; I'd dislocated it. I swore under my breath, in Calormene, as I didn't want the Lady to hear. My injury would take precious time and energy that I couldn't afford to lose.

A hand probed my shoulder, and I turned quickly, gritting my teeth and the bolt of pain that seared through my wound at the sudden movement. Lady Grae continued to feel my shoulder, an intense look of concentration on her face. "It's dislocated," she said simply. "Good. I was afraid it would be worse."

Not many have called me cowardly and survived, but I was very apprehensive about having a strange woman who I didn't know, and who had just recovered from hysteria, treating this wound. I couldn't do it on my own, however, so I let her sit me down on a rock and proceed to pop my shoulder back into place.

"Thank you," I panted.

"You're welcome, Highness," she said.

"Please, call me Peter, seeing as we'll be traveling together."

She smiled, gray eyes lighting up. "Then call me Ru, Peter."

I stood and helped her up. I remembered the sword. "One moment, Ru." I walked a few feet away, and unsheathed it. It was unbalanced, made for someone with longer, slimmer fingers and smaller palms than I have, but I could fight with it.

I went through my stances quickly, just making sure how the sword would work.

"Peter?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ru. I should have explained. The sword isn't my sword. It was, well, given to me by my captors, though that doesn't make much sense."

"No, it doesn't," she agreed. "But go on."

"It's unbalanced, so it's like using my right hand to fight, rather than my left."

"You're left-handed?"

"Yes. My siblings think that it's a tremendous joke, but it doesn't stop me from beating my brother at sword-play." She laughed. "Come. We are in need of food and shelter. Luckily for us, Narnia is the type of country that has an inn and three houses every couple of meters."

* * *

><p>As it happened, my analysis of Narnia was correct, for, only a few yards away, lo and behold, there was a warm-looking tavern and a small group of houses, all with smoke coming out of their chimneys, as it was late autumn, and most Narnians prefer heat.<p>

Light streamed from the small windows and my stomach growled as dusk fell. I dug in my pockets, hoping feverishly that my captors had been thoughtful enough to provide me with money. A handful of Gold Crowns was in my pocket, much to my surprise and relief. "Come, Ru. Let us gain nourishment."

I strode forward, and knocked softly but firmly on the inn's door. I noticed a sign hanging above it: The High King's Tavern. How appropriate. I returned my attention to the door as it opened, and a young Dryad serving girl peeked tentatively out. She gasped when she saw Ru and me, and then turned quickly. "Da! Come quick! The High King's here! And Gentle Queen Susan!"

Ru protested hurriedly. "Oh, I'm not Her Majesty!"

"She isn't. A - a family friend."

The tavern's proprietor, a Faun with a graying beard hurried over, taking in the state of us. He bowed repeatedly, and I shook his hand. "Your Majesty, Lady –?"

"Grae," Ru supplied quickly.

"Lady Grae, come, come! I am Salumnus. Oh, I never thought we would have royal guests here! This is simply a humble tavern. Sire, I'm not sure we have proper accommodations –"

I cut him off quickly, knowing that if I let him, he would be so worked up that he would have to sit down, as Fauns are natural worriers. "It's fine. Wonderful, really, compared to some of the places I've slept in. We're just in need of a warm meal and beds that aren't bare ground."

"Of course, of course. Over here, your Majesty. Come in! Come in!" He ushered us into the room, which grew quiet quickly, and, once we were seated in a small table in the corner, burst into conversation instantly.

The Faun busied himself with preparations for our rooms, and I scanned the tavern. It looked as though Salumnus kept order, as there didn't seem to be much drunken rowdiness going on; no fights, no overly loud conversations, no harassing the serving girls, many of whom were small and ideal for a would-be predator's uses. Even in Narnia, there were some morally challenged _revinim_ (or 'people' for those who aren't fluent in the Narnian tongue, though 'people' isn't anywhere near what _revinim_ truly means.)

I noticed a Faun, sitting by the fire, watching me. There was something about his face that was familiar, as though I had seen him before. Beruna . . .

* * *

><p><em>Bright green grass, iridescent sky, the sharp tang of steel and the softly acrid smell of gold, swirling together to form a confusing kaleidoscope of images that moved too fast and too slow at the same time. Bones cracking and blood flowing as my sword stabbed and slashed again and again and again. A coppery taste in my mouth, and reflexes that I would never have dreamed of having in the Other Place. The stench of sweat and fear, mixed with hatred, anger, and the all-consuming bloodlust of battle. The heady sensation of killing another hideous creature, and then the horror at what I'd just done, cut short by the next thing to fall prey to my sword, Rhindon, flashing in the sunlight, blinding enemies and, occasionally, me. The Witch, turning my army to stone. Edmund, almost falling under the axe of an Ogre. Me, unable to stop it. A Faun, coming out of nowhere and leaping onto the Ogre's back, killing it with a knife. My view obscured by another foe. It going on and on and on and never stopping.<em>

_Such was my first battle._

_Such was my first glimpse of the Faun Calumnus._

* * *

><p>I beckoned the Dryad serving girl over. She curtsied, the small, bobbing curtsy of a native, country-bred Narnian, not the sharp, fast curtsy of a woman who is far too worldly, one who knows the ways of deceit. This girl had probably never lied in her life, and she had probably never dreamed of it. "Your Highness?"<p>

"Fair Lady, do you know who that Faun is, over there, by the fire, watching us?" I asked.

She giggled, blushing at being called "Lady," then composed herself. "Yes, Sire. His name is Calumnus. He comes here every night, Your Majesty. Would you like me to get him for you, Highness?"

"Yes, please, Lady -?"

"Lio, Sire, daughter of Salumnus." I had already known that the tavern's owner was her father, as she had called him "Da," Narnian for "Father." "Mum" is Narnian for "Mother."

"If you would, then, Lady Lio, please do."

She curtsied again, and then hurried over to the Faun, weaving skillfully 'twixt tables and around customers. He looked up, and she said something into his ear. The Faun sent a fleeting look my way, and then turned back to the Dryad.

Ru yawned softly behind her hand, and then declared for my ears only that she would be retiring. I nodded and told her good night, starting to get tired myself, though the sight of Calumnus was enough to keep me awake.

As Ru left, the Faun came over. He sat in the seat opposite me, where Ru had originally sat, and just watched me. No greeting was exchanged, no small talk, just silence. I waited for him to speak, watching him, and noting his appearance.

He was dark-haired, as all Narnians (excepting only me) are. His skin was tan, from many years in the sun, and he had laugh lines around his eyes, though there were worry lines there as well. His eyes were a deep brown, though not as dark as Edmund's. He continued to stare at me, and I returned the favor, neither of us breaking eye contact for at least thirty minutes.

Finally, he looked away, allowing me to sit back and relax. He gave me a small glare, as though angry that I had not given in. "So." he spoke, seeming to forget my title for the moment. "You're here. Why?" It was a terse greeting, and not at all what I had expected, but all the same, I had lived with Edmund all my life, so I knew how to deal with this surly individual.

I spread my hands, a question in itself. "That is something that I think only a native of these parts would know." I sent a pointed look in his direction.

"What would that be?" he nearly spat, not liking my court-bred language.

I leaned forward, and he did so as well, unconsciously. "What do you know of the Garden that is just south of here?" I asked in a whisper.

He straightened, and a look of fear passed fleetingly over his face, to be replaced instantly by outrage. "Nothing! I know nothing of the place! Nothing, I tell you! Nothing!"

The manner of his answer was enough for me. "But you know to fear it," I whispered.

He shook his head, terror in his eyes. "I fear nothing!"

"Very well." I stood, and nodded. As I passed the Faun, I added "Nothing but the past."

I walked a few more paces, when he called me back. "Wait! There is more."

I turned. "Calumnus, you have provided me with all the information I need." I smiled, slowly. "Thank you for your time. I'm sure it is precious to you."

I flipped him a Gold Crown, which he caught with fumbling fingers. "From one soldier to another. Buy yourself a drink. You look as though you need it."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

I dreamed of the Other Place that night.

_I was outside, on a street that was dank and grimy. There were very few people and black storm clouds were gathered overhead. Rain poured down and a small, dark-haired boy pulled a bigger, blond boy along at a run. Thunder boomed and the older boy cried out, while the younger boy pulled at his brother more urgently. Lightning flashed, and shadows roiled and writhed. The younger boy started to sprint, dragging the blond one along as quickly as he could. There was a deafening thunderclap –_

– and then I woke, sitting up, about to bolt, the strange, gray sword's handle clenched in my fist, mouth open, about to scream. I was panting, though I did not know it at the time. I sighed, and, due to many years of habit, slipped out of the comfortable bed and crossed to the window.

No clouds, no wind, no rain, no thunder, no lightning.

Just memories.

Just my dread of storms again.

Edmund knew the scientific term for my degrading and debilitating phobia, but I didn't know the word, much less how to spell it.

All I knew was that I was scared to death of thunderstorms at the age of fourteen.

I pulled off my sweat-soaked shirt and opened the window, relishing the soft breeze that blew in, calming me, and cooling my burning skin. The heat was almost unbearable. It was nearly winter though, so how could it be so warm?

I crossed to the washbasin, and splashed water onto my face. Lukewarm. All the same, I picked up the basin and poured its contents over my head. Tepid water ran all over me, soaking my hair and chest, drops sliding down my arms. I sighed, grinning in spite of myself, but then the water grew warm and I sighed again, a different sigh, one of defeat. I wiped at the sweat on my brow, ran a hand through my hair, feeling the wetness there, though the water only made things worse. I was breathing heavily, humidity almost making me pant. I walked around a bit, and then stood again at the window, no longer able to enjoy the wind that now made no difference.

How was it so bloody _hot?_

I needed to get out, if only for a few minutes. Fresh air would do me good. I pulled my shirt on, wishing I didn't have to, and tugged on my boots. I swiped my forehead again and buckled my sword belt around my waist, sheathing the sword as I walked towards the door.

I slipped out, into the silent, dark hallway, and down the stairs, keeping to the side, never treading on the middle of the steps, where there would be the most creaks. I walked down, through the unoccupied kitchen, pausing to pilfer three long, sharp knives that would do for extra protection. I wasn't about to go out alone with just an unfamiliar, unbalanced, untested sword for protection. I emerged into the tavern's main room and crossed to the door, opening it quietly, and walking around to the stables.

A young Faun sat asleep in a chair near the door. I made sure to walk loudly but carefully, so as not to terrify him. I cleared my throat and he woke swiftly, jumping to his feet when he saw me. The Faun bowed repeatedly, saying many excuses. I held up a hand to silence him. "It's alright. I didn't mean to wake you up. I only want to go for a ride. Have you any non-talking horses?"

"Yes, Sire. Talking Horses are not kept in this stable."

"Good. You have kept Aslan's Law well. What is your name?"

"Rolumnus, Highness."

"What is this one's name? She's beautiful," I asked, stroking the nose of a palomino mare with a mane whiter than snow. I could tell she was swift and strong simply by looking at her.

"Chiya. She's my favorite. Not a single complaint from all who have ridden her, and we've had some Calormenes come through."

"I can understand that," I said softly, patting Chiya's neck. "Oh, you beautiful, beautiful animal." I looked to Rolumnus. "May I ride her?"

The Faun looked taken aback. "Of course, Sire. Would you like me to saddle her?"

"Does she ride bareback?" The Faun nodded, seeming surprised that I would want to ride her without a saddle. "Then I'll ride her bareback."

The Faun grinned. "Yes, Sire!"

* * *

><p>Chiya was, indeed, a beautiful, beautiful animal. Never before had I ridden a better mount, not even Flisk, the Unicorn I rode into the Battle of Beruna compared to Chiya,<p>

We flew over rocky ground, through a forest, and over a meadow before the sun came up. We crested a hill and I could see all of Narnia spread out before me; there, the Eastern Sea, reflecting the rising sun; there, the great, dark mass that was the Western Woods; there, Ettinsmoor to the north. I could faintly see the pass of Anvard, with Mount Pire looming behind it like a great, two-headed Giant (which popular lore claimed it to be), , to the south, from where I sat, atop Chiya. The scene was so reminiscent to Beruna that I almost expected to hear the Narnian battle cry, but none came. The silence was almost unbearable.

Chiya reared and I drew the gray sword, raising it high, towards the Eastern Sea, towards the rising sun.

"FOR NARNIA! AND FOR ASLAN!"

The yell echoed out, wild and exuberant, a throaty roar, resonating across plains, sinking into valleys, reverberating back towards me as though the Land itself was crying out, defying its enemies, rallying its troops, a war cry to be feared and revered everywhere.

The Voice of the Land is much more powerful than my own, small one.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

I galloped back into the inn's courtyard, hair wind-blown, senses alert, and body and mind refreshed. I slowed to a trot when I saw Ru talking with Rolumnus, a scared look on her face. She turned at the sound of hooves and relaxed, her relief evident.

"Where were you? No one saw you leave except for this Faun, and he didn't know where you had gone!"

I bit my lip, realizing that my behavior had been rather impulsive. I slipped off Chiya, handing her off to Rolumnus, who lead her away, back to the stables. "I went out for a ride. I woke up in the night and it was incredibly hot. Sometimes, when you're a king, you need to get out. Riding helps me think, and it clears my head. I'm sorry, Ru. I should have told someone."

She looked up at me, still not convinced. "Do you trust me, Peter?"

I paused. "Yes."

Ru nodded. "Alright, but please, next time, leave a note." I couldn't help but smile at that, at the thought that there might _be_ a "next time."

"I will. Have you had breakfast?" She shook her head. "Alright, then. I hope Salumnus extends his hospitality a little longer, because, I don't know about _you_, but _I'm_ hungry."

* * *

><p>As it happens, Salumnus <em>did <em>extend his hospitality to the level of allowing me to keep the three knives I had taken, free of charge. He also gave me Chiya, who I stubbornly paid for with seven Gold Crowns, a pitifully inadequate price for such a fine, strong animal. His lovely wife, Aro, supplied us with enough provisions to last several weeks, and Lio made packs for us out of the best leather she could find. Salumnus and his family refused payment for those, though I stayed obstinate until I couldn't refuse without having to order them. The best I could do was thank them profusely and then leave some Gold Crowns behind on my pillow for them to find and enjoy later.

I gave Rolumnus three Silver Nobles, the equivalent of a Gold Crown, as payment for the ride and for taking Chiya from him. He accepted them graciously, and then gave them promptly back. I had been nowhere near to repaying the family for their great kindness, so I was sure to check the address (No. 4, Rushing Lane, Tirusal, Narnia,) and contacted a good family of Birds who were happy to carry a letter for me to Cair Paravel. As I wrote it, I tried to tell my siblings all that had happened without scaring them, but it really couldn't be helped.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Su, Ed, and Lu<em>

_First of all, make sure that you are all seated, and promise to the kind Bird carrying this message that you will not stand up until you finish reading. Especially you, Ed._

_Are you sitting? Good._

_I am fine, though I am afraid that there has been a . . . change of plans. On the day I left the Cair to go to Ettinsmoor, I was captured by unknown assailants at the army outpost that is half way from the Cair and Ettinsmoor. Stay seated, Ed. No, you may not go charging off to rescue me. I am fine._

_I was taken to a Garden in the middle of Narnia and I escaped with a girl named Ru Grae, who had been imprisoned there as I had. I am fine._

_The address that I am sending this letter with is in need of, at the very least, twenty Gold Crowns, though please give them more. The family is wonderful, and they are in need of assistance because I don't have the amount of money adequate to repay them and they will not accept any that I do have._

_I am fine._

_This one is for Ed. Please, do not come galloping in to save the day, as I know how annoying it is to you when I do that, so please spare me the inconvenience, and leave your brotherly tendencies for when I get home. Go to the Western Woods and make peace before there's another attack._

_I am going to Ettinsmoor with Ru Grae, and she will be leaving for Cair Paravel once we get there. Provide accommodations for her, will you? She has no home that she knows of besides the Garden._

_Please, don't shoot the messenger. She is a very kind young Bird with a bright future ahead of her._

_I am fine._

_Love,_

_Peter, High King of Narnia, ect., ect._

* * *

><p>I finished the letter and gave it to Twilith, the Bird who had offered to carry the message. She cocked her bright blue head and took off, flitting this way and that, obviously excited to be off to see the Cair. I watched her fly off, and then felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked down to see Ru watching me, a small smile on her face.<p>

I climbed onto Chiya, and pulled Ru up behind me where she would ride pillion. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and I steadied Chiya, who had to get used to the sudden increase in weight.

"Time to go."

* * *

><p>Once she got used to the added weight, Chiya rode as she had when I'd first ridden her. We nearly flew, almost skimming over the grass and in between the many Trees, who lifted their branches so Ru I and I wouldn't have to duck. We leaped over a fallen log, which made Ru shriek with laughter and hold on tighter. I let out a whoop of sheer joy and urged Chiya on, each second getting us closer to Ettinsmoor, the army, and, for me, family.<p>

Each second getting me closer to home.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

BOOM.

I cried out, sitting bolt upright, images of my nightmare and of reality flying through my head, bewildering my senses with too much. Rain poured down, drenching me, and another deafening roar of thunder rumbled overhead. Lightning flashed, lighting up our camp with sporadic bursts of light. The small clearing, ringed by Trees who were stretching out their branches to make a sort of canopy, was already soaked. I shivered, for this rain was not the sweet, warm rain of Narnia in the summer, but the cold, harsh Narnian winter rain.

I felt a warm presence near me and turned my head to see Ru huddled close, looking terrified. At every lightning strike and every roll of thunder, she shrank back, cowering. I flinched too, trying very hard not to cry out for Edmund to _get in here, now!_

"What is it? What is it?" Ru cried, grabbing my arm and holding on tight. "Peter, nothing like this ever happened in the Garden! What _is_ it?"

"It's a thunderstorm, Ru," I said, stubbornly fighting my instinct to run away, doing my best to keep calm, even though I was secretly screaming in terror.

Why, _why_ did there have to be a bloody_ thunderstorm _out here, where we had no shelter? _Why?_

I sighed and we retreated back to a spreading Oak. I sat and leaned against it and Ru curled up next to me, both of us waiting out the storm.

* * *

><p>I woke early the next morning. The sun was rising, and I blinked rapidly, my eyes getting used to the bright light. Ru's head was on my shoulder, still holding onto my arm. I shifted a bit and she woke at the small movement, brushing hair out of her face.<p>

"Good Morn, Ru," I said.

"Good Morn, Peter. I'm sorry for getting so scared last night. I didn't know what was happening."

I smiled down at her, remembering my first outdoor thunderstorm. "Don't apologize. Personally, I'm scared of them too."

"Really? You didn't seem like you were last night."

"That's because I had you to keep me _not_ horrified because if _I_ was scared, then _you_ would have been even more terrified, and that's saying something."

She laughed, then sat back and watched as I stood up, looking around for Chiya. I had tied her to a Tree the night before to make sure that she wouldn't run away, and what with the events of last night, I was worried that she would be gone. I've heard stories of soldiers, stranded in the Great Southern Desert, or in the frigid cold of Ettinsmoor because their horse ran off during a storm. I heard a soft whinny to my right and turned in time to see Chiya come trotting out of the woods, tossing her great, palomino head, reigns trailing on the ground.

The saddlebags were soaked, as were our clothes, but we would manage. I would have expected the food to be spoiled, but Aro knew how to pack for bad weather; all that wouldn't be spoiled due to moisture was wrapped in cloths and put at the top of the saddlebag, whereas all the provisions that would be destroyed because of rain was at the bottom. Each item was wrapped in oilskins and bundled together in a drawstring bag. They must get a lot of rain in the center of Narnia, for they knew how to prepare for it, which was fortunate for Ru and me.

I pulled some of the least wet food out of the bag, mainly apples, and Ru and I packed up while we ate our meager breakfast. Mounting Chiya as we had the day before, Ru and I started off. By Sunhigh, we were very close. As we took a break for lunch, I knew that by moonrise we would be in the mountains. We would be in Ettinsmoor by Moonhigh the next day.

I was almost home.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

We rode into the mountains while the sun was setting on the horizon.

Chiya snorted and tossed her mane, stamping a hoof nervously at the oncoming night.

"What is it, girl?" I asked softly, patting her neck to sooth her. I offered her an apple but she declined, which worried me. Most horses, be they talking or not, will rarely, if ever, refuse an apple, especially a Narnian one, which are juicy and sweet, unless something very bad is about to happen. Chiya stamped again, her huge, brown eyes rolling this way and that. She shifted, as though uncomfortable, then neighed loudly, rearing up and lashing out with her hooves.

Ru screamed my name as I dodged and ducked through flailing hooves, trying to get at Chiya. I caught hold of her bridle and forced her down on all fours, using my body weight as an anchor, lest she rear up again.

"Down, girl, down," I said, staring her in the eyes. She pulled her head away, but I caught it with both hands, carefully, not to scare her, but so she would look at me. "Chiya, _down._ It's all right. It's okay. Calm down, girl, calm down. Here, have this." I produced the apple again, offering it to her. She watched me for a moment, and then took it, eyes wide, still scared.

Very, very faint, in the distance, I heard an unearthly howl, a mixture of a scream of agony and a wolf's hunting call. Chiya tried to break free of my grip, but I held on tightly. One word pounded over and over and over again through my brain, brought by instinct and training: _Wer-Wulf._

I turned to Ru.

"It's not safe here."

* * *

><p>Chiya galloped through the Ettin Pass, kicking up dirt and small stones as she went. Ru held tightly to me, and this journey was not like those previous: this journey was scary, dangerous, and reckless. I hardly had time to see where we were going before I had to make a turn, and the sound of hooves skidding over rocks echoed through the deep valleys and wide gulches. Sparks flew from the friction of horseshoes on granite, and Ru's head was buried in my back, so she wouldn't have to see the terrifying heights.<p>

The sounds of the Wulf grew louder, and I dared to look back. There was no sign of the Fell Beast, though I knew it was coming. I looked ahead again to find that I had no idea where I was, but I kept riding.

We careened around a corner and found ourselves facing a solid wall of rock, reaching up higher than either of us could climb on our own. There was only a small cave for us to hide in, and I doubted that it would keep us safe for very long, if at all. We both dismounted, and I turned to Chiya. The Wulf would ignore her because it wanted us. She was wide-eyed with terror, and I let out a wild yell and slapped her flanks. She let out the shrill scream of a horse about to die, and galloped off, down the path, back to her home.

"Ru," I said softly. "Get in the cave. Now."

She did as she was told, glancing back at me before concealing herself in the shadows, leaving me to face the Wer-Wulf alone.

The howls grew louder, less smooth and connected, choppier, as though the Wulf were panting, growing hungrier.

I turned and drew the sword, the sound of metal on metal echoing through the rocks.

The wheezing, groaning, barking laugh of a Wer-Wulf echoed around as well. It was the sound of triumph, the sound of derision that anything should try to get between the foul Beast and its prey.

I drew one of my knives, and called out a challenge, trying not to sound like the fourteen-year-old boy I was, recalling all the speeches made by heroes in the stories I'd read back in the Other Place.

"Show yourself, foul Beast! Cease this useless chase and step forward to meet your doom, though you might feed on my dead flesh as your lifeblood flows out of you."

The foul laugh grew louder, one of genuine mirth. The throaty, ground-glass voice of the Wulf reached my ears, part snarl, part moan, and part words.

"You, puny Human, know very well that I will not die today. I ask _you,_ O Man, to show _your_self, that I might see your lying face before I destroy it."

"Lying face or not, miserable Creature, at least mine does not resemble that of a _dog_," I retorted, my brother's retaliations to Fell Things like this one coming to mind.

The laugh changed to a deadly growl, then the Beast rounded the corner, and I saw the Thing in all its ravaged, warped glory.

Its brown-black fur was matted and ratty, greasy and not in any way clean. Dried blood dotted its body, and in some places it was so thick that it cracked when the Beast moved. It was dog-like and wolf-like, though in a grotesque twisted way, as though nature had been manipulated and made unnatural. Its black eyes glared murderously out at me, and its claws were long and jagged, made for ripping into flesh and through bone. Its teeth were huge and black; there was blood on them too. It slouched down, and its stick-thin arms and legs might have been long, were it not hunched over.

"I'm in luck," it rasped, sending shivers down my spine as it leered at me. "It is said that king's flesh is richer than others, and that pretender king's are even better."

To put it in the words of Edmund: fantastic! I've always wanted to be a gourmet dish.

"It's so good to know that I'm appreciated," I said, using all the bravado I could muster, as well as another of Ed's sayings that he reserved just for meetings such as this. "But, I'm afraid, I have to go now."

I turned, and ran.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

I threw myself into the cave, which opened up into a tunnel. Ru saw my face as I ran, and started fleeing as well. I passed under a dangerously balanced pile of rocks and dislodged one with the sword, causing the whole thing to come crashing down thunderously.

"That should stall it," I panted, and then Ru and I stopped running.

We had no light.

* * *

><p>Ru and I felt our way through the darkness, holding onto each other's hands so we wouldn't lose each other. We went slowly, knowing that if we tried to go quickly, one of us would trip and become injured.<p>

Once she had caught her breath, Ru spoke out of the darkness.

"Peter?"

"Yes, Ru?"

"Why did you tell me to run, rather than have the both of us go while we had the chance?"

"Because two people together are easier to find and kill rather than two people who are taking separate routes. It was a training rule, though my brother and I rarely adhere to it, seeing as we do better when we're together anyway."

There was a long pause, and then Ru replied. "I suppose that does make sense. I can understand that, but what about Chiya? Why did you send her off?"

"Because that horse can run faster than any other living creature that I have seen in this world. Another rule from training is that Fell Beasts will always choose Humans over anything else. _Always_," I added for emphasis. "That Wulf was not going to stop for Chiya, because it knew that we were nearby, and, sadly, we taste better, as we are quite rare."

"That's horrible!"

"It's a fact of life here, but we've started doing our best to exterminate those who are still loyal to Her Late Majesty. It's awful work, but it has to be done."

I paused, thinking over what I had to say next.

"The Fell Beasts were once Narnians, pure and whole, but they turned away from Aslan and from the light.

"To me, killing them, it's like – " I took a breath, bracing myself.

"It's like what?" she asked, gently.

"It's like killing my brother."

* * *

><p>We moved swiftly but carefully through the caverns. Dark, damp, slimy rocks made it hard for us to walk without falling. I caught Ru when she tripped on a ledge. I squinted into the darkness, trying to get my eyes to adjust.<p>

No, it wasn't possible. Not yet.

There. No. _There._

Light.

* * *

><p>We stumbled out of the tunnel, the light blinding both of us. Ru let go of my hand. Gray mist surrounded us, and there was the fountain. We were back in the Garden.<p>

And Ru was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"Ru?" I looked around, searching frantically for her, but she was gone. "Ru!"

"I'm here, Peter." I turned at the sound of her voice. She was there, standing on the path, mist making the edges of her dress fade and shimmer. I sighed, drooping with relief. Something was different, though. She was taller, almost my height, and when she walked it was no longer with the small, careful steps of a lady, but with the long confident stride of a man. She moved forward, smiling a new smile, almost predatory. "Oh, Peter, you silly, silly king. How could you not understand?"

"Understand what?" I asked as she moved closer. She laughed and shook her head. She put a hand to the side of my face and my breathing grew labored. Ru leaned up and kissed me. My mind went blank for a moment and then I leaned into the kiss, wanting more, but she pulled away, only to come back again. I put my hands on her waist, pulling her closer. She kissed me again, her hand slipping back into my hair, and I felt the weight of the sword on my hip lessen, and then disappear. We broke apart, and I looked down, to see her holding it, with the grip of an expertly trained swordswoman. Her stance had changed, feet spreading farther apart, and she held the sword up, smiling that small, mocking smile.

I looked at her questioningly, not getting it. "Ru, what are you doing? Give me the sword back." She shook her head again, and laughed at me. I was so confused, my head muddled.

"Oh, Peter, don't you see? I am not the woman you thought I was." Her dress was starting to grow fainter, revealing men's clothes underneath, until it faded into the mist that it was made of. "I am the heir of Jadis. I am the real High Queen of Narnia."

"There is no High Queen," I said, scared of what she meant. "Ru, are you saying that you're – "

"Yes! Finally, you understand. Peter, I'm here to get the throne, the throne that is rightfully mine. You were just an obstacle."

"My siblings would never allow it," I said, hating how weak I sounded, hating how easily she got to me.

"But they are going to die too. You see, Peter, I have siblings as well." Oh, sweet Lion, my family! No. No, no, no, no, no, _no_.

"Do you know this sword's name?" she asked, changing topics. I shook my head. She examined the blade, running a finger along it, tracing those strange runes. "This is _my_ sword, Peter. _ I_ gave it to you, when you were passed out, lying on the ground, limp and unresponsive to my family's taunting. You looked so ridiculous, sprawled out, unconscious. You were so easy to capture too. The sword was purely to mess with you, and it did. Do you remember how unbalanced it was? It was made for _me_. Its name isLionslayer." She twirled it dexterously. "You were once described to me as the young lion of Narnia. I think the name is fitting." She paused, walking towards me again, only this time, I was moving backwards, still facing her, unable to look away. "Don't you?"

She started walking faster, and I quickened my pace as well, almost stumbling. She continued to tell me the things that I should have known, but had refused to acknowledge. "I had the pleasure of meeting you without your crown, without your sword, without your power, without your _mane_, Peter.

"This sword was created for the sole purpose of killing _you_, my lion. It was made to penetrate Dwarfish armor and mail, though it won't have to. You are weaponless, and don't even look to your knives. They were easy to steal while you were asleep, just as easy as it was to reclaim my sword when I kissed you."

She smiled sweetly, mocking me in my unknowing state, a cold, hard shadow of the girl I had thought I knew. "You were so easy to fool, Peter, so easy to trick. And kissing you!" She laughed, a harsh, cruel laugh, making the betrayal sink farther down, driving it in deep. "Kissing you just made it perfect. You should have seen your face when I pulled away. It was ecstatic and broken at the same time.

"Oh, but the look on your face _now_, Peter. That handsome face, so sad, so betrayed, so hurt, so _scared_. It's perfect. I hope I remember it for the rest of my life, which, coincidentally, will be _much_ longer than yours." I ran into something: the fountain. I could go no further.

"I'm here, my lion, to kill you. It is time for the ruler to become ruled, for the fallen to rise, and for the lion to become just a cat." The sword was still in other hand, its edge very close to me. Blunt metal brushed my neck, cold against my skin.

"Peter, are you ready to die?"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"Ru, please," I whispered, raising my hands to the sword at my throat. "Please. Don't do this. You don't have to kill me. Please, just explain."

"Explain what?" she spat, digging the blunt edge harder into my neck. I gasped, and felt blood start to ooze out of the wound, warm and thick on my skin.

"Just – just tell me why," I rasped, pushing at the sword, trying to get it away from me.

"Tell you why? Tell you _why_?" A flash of metal in front of my face, and then my hands were bleeding. I yanked them away, and then realized that it wasn't the sword that had cut me, but one of my knives, the same knife that she was holding in her other hand. "I'll tell you why, little King. I've done this because I hate you. I hate you because I was Human once too. So were my siblings, but we were found by the Witch, and we weren't rescued like that traitor, your brother."

She pressed closer, and I was fighting for a chance to breathe. "I hate you, Peter Pevensie. I hate what you've done to me. I hate what you're making me do. I hate killing you, but it has to be done."

"Ru," I asked, trying to buy just a few more minutes of my life. "Please. Tell me - how we - got here - so quickly." I couldn't breathe, with the blunt end of a sword at my throat, pressing against my air supply, cutting it off.

"Having trouble breathing, Peter?" she asked, ignoring my question. She pressed the sword harder against my neck, the blade not sharp enough to kill me, but sharp enough to hurt and to choke me to death. I gasped, and dry, heaving coughs wracked my body. My head was going fuzzy, everything muddled and hazy around the edges.

My legs gave way and she pulled the sword away from my neck. I collapsed to the ground, sucking in air, and then coughing, and then sucking in more air. I felt a booted foot press against my throat, and I breathed in one more time. The boot pressed harder, and all the colors in the garden turned greyer, and greyer, and greyer. The mist swirled around me, in I could hear Ru laughing softly. She knelt down next to me, touched my face, and laughed again.

"Oh, my lion. I knew you wouldn't last long. Nighty-night."

And then there was nothing but darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

I woke up to the sound of my little brother swearing. For an eleven-year-old, he had a rather dirty mouth. Hopefully, he didn't learn those words from me.

Those few vulgar words were the best sounds that I have ever heard, because they meant that I was alive, that my brother was alive, and that my brother was very, ah, _agitated_, which meant that everything was going well.

I sat up, slowly, taking it all in. I was instantly deluged by worried Fauns, agitated questions from Centaurs, indignant Dwarfs, terrified Dryads and Naiads, and a whole contingent of Talking Beasts, there either to see me or to just claim that they had. I couldn't think fast enough to keep track of it all, and the noise was deafening, a clamor and cacophony of high, shrill voices, or low, rich ones, and it hurt, it hurt, _it hurt_.

"_Silence!_" Edmund's voice rang out above the din and they all quieted immediately. "If there is anyone here who is not involved in the current situation, please leave." Four-fifths of the group were gone in an instant. "If there is anything that anyone remaining could be doing at this time, which includes securing the perimeter, filling out any necessary paperwork, taking an inventory, _anything_, please, go do so." Everyone else left.

Ed smothered me in a hug. I closed my eyes, and buried my head into his shoulder, shaking.

We stayed like that for a long time, and then, once everyone else was back and ready to go, we both stood, mounted Edmund's horse, him in front of me, and then left.

We traveled in silence for a while, and then I asked the question. "How did you find me?"

He sighed softly. "It's a long story."

I grinned. "We've got time."

"Alright then." He settled back more comfortably against me. "The day you left, we got an urgent call from the Narnians in the Western Wild…"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The day Peter left, we got an urgent call from the Narnians in the Western Wild.

Or, at least, I did.

The situation was delicate at best. The Narnians who had fought on the side of the Witch were attacking those who hadn't. And I, Edmund the traitor, had to go make peace.

Oh, goody.

You see, most Narnians don't really like me. They tolerate me, and while there are a few who may appreciate me, none truly _like_ me. Some will forgive treachery, but most aren't quite prepared to accept someone who was on the Witch's side as one of their kings.

I can understand that. I wouldn't be prepared to accept me either.

I relate to them. It feels as if I'm two people sometimes; half of me isn't a beastly, traitorous liar, and the other half _is_ a beastly, traitorous liar. The problem is that I don't really know which half of me I am.

It hurts.

But, you know what also hurts? Leaving your family to go deal with Narnians who think you're a traitor, no matter what side they were on during the war.

I suppose it's just a perk to being a king, the fine print in the job description: "Must be able to deal with people who think you're a traitor and know that you're a traitor so you really can't do anything about it. Also, bring safety goggles to avoid going blind due to overripe fruit that may be thrown at you."

Actually, no fruit has been thrown at me. Yet.

But, I had to leave, and, once I said good-bye to Su and Lu, I managed to tear myself away from the Cair and head out into the great sort-of-known.

Halfway to the Western Wild, at the waterfall near the cherry tree where Peter nearly killed the girls and the Beavers, we stopped for the night.

I know he didn't really try to kill them and that they were escaping from the Wolves, but almost drowning counts as nearly being killed in my book. Even though it was really my fault.

But, we stopped for the night, and I was eating dinner – speaking of that, I'm hungry – when a boy, about my age, came running out of the Shuddering Woods. He was dark-haired, and wore all gray. He looked like a ghost, like a specter, except for the red stain the was spreading over his tunic.

He ran into the camp, and collapsed, unconscious.

Then we heard the screams.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

I was torn between two things: the boy and the screaming. Thank Aslan someone made the decision for me.

Lareondi, a Gryphon and the leader of my escort, flew over and landed beside me. "Your Majesty, you must find shelter immediately. It's not safe here."

"Why?" I stood, questioning even as I obeyed. I didn't enjoy having an escort. I would have much preferred going to the Wild on my own. It felt pretentious, bringing along an entire envoy to make peace. It was ironic, once you thought of it, as all members of the envoy were heavily armed. But it really couldn't be helped.

Lareondi motioned toward the canvas tent with his great, feathered head. "I'll explain in there, Sire."

I was about to make a flippant remark about obscurity and how it would save so much time should I outlaw it, but decided not to.

I ducked into the tent, and turned, ready for an explanation, but the Gryphon was already gone.

Well, if they wouldn't tell me, I'd find out myself.

I slipped out of the tent, stealing away towards where the boy lay. No one but me seemed to have noticed him, as they were all focused on the screaming. As I drew closer, another boy emerged from the woods, running towards the smaller one. They were almost identical, brothers, it seemed, only the elder wasn't bleeding. He fell beside the smaller boy, holding him to his chest.

I was about ten paces away when the elder looked up, grey eyes wide. I took a step back; he was obviously frightened of me, though I don't know why. Maybe it had something to do with the sword. Yeah, that's probably what it was.

There was pain in his eyes as he stared at me. I wanted to help. I really did, but I didn't know how. What do you do when someone is in an obvious amount of mental pain because his little brother is in obvious physical pain? What if his brother was dead?

But he wasn't, because even as I watched the small one stirred slightly, opening his eyes. The older boy returned his attention to the younger one immediately.

I stood there, not moving. I didn't know what to do. So I asked him. "How can I help?"

He looked up, grey eyes wide and suspicious. He paused for a minute, then pulled his brother closer. A hoarse whisper came from him, and if I hadn't been listening closely I would have missed what he said.

"Water."

Water. Of course. There was a stream nearby, closer than where water was stored in the camp. I came closer, and beckoned to him. "I know where there is some. In the woods. I'll show you."

He was wary of me at first, and then stood up cautiously, carrying the other. We walked into the forest, a few meters along, me leading, while he followed. I turned to look at him, pointing at the bubbling stream. "It's there. If you want me to go get something to hold it in, I can..." I trailed off, because he'd already set the smaller one down. And then he attacked suddenly, knocking me to the ground with such force that I only gasped for air, the wind knocked out of me.

I barely saw the smaller boy get up, laughing, and then liquid hit my lips, burning yet icy as it ran down my throat. A second later, I was asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

It was very dark when I woke up. It wasn't pitch-black; there was a slight haze of grey light that seemed to float around me, but the darkness still consumed most of the space.

I don't like the dark. It's not as if I am scared of it, because I don't believe I am. It feels more like there are too many painful memories that I associate with the dark for me to be able to live perpetually with it.

He who loves the day does not often tolerate he who loves the night, as he who loves the day lives in the light forever, and does not allow the blackness to enter him, whilst he who loves the night is plunged into eternal darkness until the end of time, forced to endure his life with no brightness.

That was a long sentence.

I closed my eyes, trying to get a feel for my surroundings. I was in a bed covered by blankets, which was somewhat odd, and there was – well, that was all I could tell with my eyes closed.

I opened them slowly. No one was in the room. There wasn't a door. There weren't any windows either. The walls were smooth, and a fireplace with no fire was set into one of them. An iron rod, presumably used as a poker, leaned against the wall. There was nothing else in the room except for the bed.

Well, at least they left me with an escape route and a weapon. What next, room service?

I got out of the bed, walked over to the chimney, crouched down, and looked up.

Blocked. Of course. Why did I think that it wouldn't be?

My attention turned to the only feasible weapon in the room.

The iron rod was cold. It would work as a sword or a staff, though it wouldn't be a very good one.

I started to pace. The floor of the room was smooth and bare. There were no floorboards to pry up, no trap doors, nothing. How in Aslan's name had I gotten in?

I looked up.

Far above me, a circle of cloudy sky was visible, the only light source.

No. They had _not_ dropped me down here, and been good enough to land me on the bed, under the covers. It was not possible.

But then, how…?

I sat on the bad, thoroughly stumped, waiting for something to happen.

Waiting has never been an enjoyable pastime for me. I'm better at it than my brother is, for Peter can never keep still long enough to get anything that requires any kind of complete, mental consumption accomplished.

My energy is cold, focused. I go numb to every other sensation when I'm truly concentrating, but Peter is fiery. He channels his restless nature into tasks of action: fighting and doing manual labor. I'm our first resort when it comes to diplomacy, while he is our last.

Through all that, I still don't enjoy waiting. I never have anything to do and usually the only things I have to do, I don't like doing. It's a vicious cycle.

But then, without anything bad in the world, how could there be anything good?

There would be no standards to live by. If there was no evil, good could not be triumphant – there would be nothing to be triumphant about. There would be no glorious victories, no morality standards, no noble deeds. All would have become common, everyday happenings, and life would be monotonous.

When I have nothing to amuse myself with, I ramble on about psychological things.

Peter rambles a lot, mostly about mundane things or when he's too tired to think straight. He only does it when I'm around. It must be hereditary.

Hours later, it seemed, something finally did happen.

"Sire?"

I scrambled up, craning back to see the fading light from above.

"Sire!"

A Faun, leaning over the hole, rope in hand.

"Thank Aslan I've found you."

"What are you here for?" I called, wary. I wasn't about to let myself be tricked again.

The Faun looked around quickly, then back down at me.

"I'm here to save you, Sire."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

"Who are you?" I asked once I made it up the rope.

"A friend."

"Well, _that's_ not cryptic at all," I muttered.

"Introductions can wait till later. Right now we need to get out of here, before _they_ come back."

"Then why are we still in a tree?" I asked.

The Faun closed his eyes, trying to control his temper.

He opened them, and watched me in silence. I raised my eyebrows. "Well? Are we going to get out of here or not?"

He looked ready to hit me, but instead he just sighed, and started climbing down the tree, which was an impressive feat, considering that he has hooves. Maybe his tree-climbing abilities have to do with being part goat. _Note to self: investigate later._

He led me through the woods, to a small clearing.

"Alright, explain," I said, stopping.

"What do you want to know?" He sat on a fallen log and waited.

So many questions were flying through my head, each one of them telling me that it needed out right that minute. I took a second to think it through.

"Who are you?"

"I am the Faun Calumnus, and I have met you before, though I wasn't properly introduced to you at the time."

"How?"

"An Ogre got in the way."

Well, that wasn't what I had expected. I asked another question. "How did you find me?"

"I've been tracing the Graes for months," he answered.

"Who are the Graes?"

"They are undefined. I don't know, but there's something wrong with them. They're evil – that's fact. You've been exposed to two of them, your brother has met one, and from what I know, there are four."

"Those boys," I whispered, everything falling into place. "But that means that Peter and the girls – "

" – are probably in their presence as we speak," he finished for me.

Again, I was torn. Who to go to – Peter or the girls?

"Your brother will be the closer of them," Calumnus said. "I spoke with him, a day ago. "He was with _her_, the eldest. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen."

"Sounds like Peter," I muttered.

"Sire," Calumnus said, in a gentler voice than I would have thought possible from him. "She will kill him. She may be killing him now."

"Take me to him."

* * *

><p>We slipped through the trees, making our way towards where Peter was.<p>

"Is that it?" I whispered, staring at the colossal wall of gray stone.

"Yes."

"Well," I muttered. "This'll be fun."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

"I have to go get the rest of your envoy. Good luck, Sire."

"Wait, you're leaving me? To face something that we don't even know what it is, or if it's in there? I'm _eleven_."

"You're also very resilient. I trust you'll be able to survive. If not, blame me, but your brother will be dead by then, and it will be your fault."

If it weren't considered un-kingly to smack one's subjects, I would've done so. This Faun was getting on my nerves.

He left, and I squinted out at the giant door. I wasn't sure if I would be able to open it, but I would have to try.

Yay.

* * *

><p>The door was easier to get open than I expected it to be.<p>

Oh, sure, there was a lot of shoving, but it wasn't that hard, when all was said and done.

I stepped into the garden, and went completely blind.

That mist was _thick_.

I stumbled around for a bit, and then I heard voices. Peter's voice, and that girl's.

"…I hate you, Peter Pevensie. I hate what you've done to me. I hate what you're making me do. I hate killing you, but it has to be done."

I moved as quickly and quietly as I could towards the voices. I could make out the shape of a fountain, listening, sword in hand, waiting for my chance.

"Ru. Please. Tell me - how we - got here - so quickly." Peter spoke, and I could faintly see him pressed against the fountain, a sword at his throat. He couldn't breathe – that much was obvious. The girl was holding the sword.

"Having trouble breathing, Peter?"

Her voice was cold, mocking, familiar. She reminded me of Jadis.

Oh, no. _Jadis._ Of course. Oh, Aslan, of _course_.

Suddenly, Peter collapsed, coughing. The girl pressed her boot against his neck, laughing softly. She knelt down, caressing his face, tracing his jaw-line, and I wanted to kill her then, but I couldn't move, paralyzed by the sight of my older brother dying.

"Oh, my lion. I knew you wouldn't last long," she whispered, letting her hand slide down his chest. Peter's blue eyes closed. She straightened, sheathing her sword. "Nighty-night."

"Technically, it's the afternoon," I said, stepping out. "But let's not get into that."

She spun. "You. You were supposed to die."

I grinned. "Generally, I don't do what I'm supposed to. Now, do you want to fight and die here, or would you prefer a public execution? I can provide you with a trial. I'm not a judge for nothing."

"You're a traitor," she hissed.

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, _wow_. That hurt. I've _never_ gotten that one before. Thing is, I've been forgiven, so, try again." I waited politely for her response.

It came in the form of her charging at me.

My answer? Around fifty Narnian soldiers coming in at precisely the right moment.

Perhaps not the fairest of fights, but we won, didn't we?

I was the one who really killed her. The element of surprise worked for us. She was distracted; I wasn't; I stabbed her.

She evaporated into mist.

The air cleared and I saw Peter slumped at the base of the fountain.

He started to wake up, but I couldn't get to him because of all the other people in the way.

But we won, all the same.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"And that's how we found you," Edmund finished.

I blinked. "Well, that was…not what I expected."

"Now it's your turn, brother dear, to tell me how you got in that predicament in the first place," he answered, looking up at me, dark eyes wide and pleading. I wasn't buying it. Edmund never pleads.

"It's much longer and not half as witty," I answered.

"Fine. If you don't want to admit to your army that you got your royal butt whipped by a girl, you don't have to. But you'll tell me later. I know it." He was right. The idea of my younger brother finishing off the girl who had nearly finished _me_ off was rather degrading, and I was forced to admit that I, slightly shamed at the notion, almost refused to believe it. But it must be true – there had been no body when I woke up.

I was saved, in an uncanny way, by Calumnus.

"Sire, there is something in the woods," the Faun said, surprising me.

"Of what nature?" I asked, and felt Edmund stiffen, both of us wary.

"I don't know, Sire, but it doesn't feel like a friendly one."

"How long till we reach the camp?"

The Faun glanced at the sky. "Five minutes, if all goes well."

"Then let us hope we make it there, before_ nothing_ goes well," I answered.

"Send someone ahead to warn the others," Edmund advised. "If it is something, I don't want to be caught in the middle."

The Faun left us, and Edmund bit his lip, thinking.

"What is it?" I asked.

"If anyone knows about those – those _things_, that girl, the boys who attacked me, it's him. He knew where to find me, knew where the Garden was. I'm just nervous…" He trailed off, staring hard at the darkening sky.

"He was at the inn where Ru and I stayed. He knew about the Garden," I added, thinking too, about Calumnus, the way he'd watched us. My thoughts started to wander to Ru, how her hand on my face felt like, how her waist fit in my hands, how she'd tasted, how much it had felt like a punch in the gut when she'd betrayed me.

My first romantic escapade hadn't gone well.

"Ru? Was that the girl's name?"

My thoughts snapped back to the matter at hand. "Yes, that was her name."

Something rustled softly on the left side of the trail, in the woods.

And then they attacked.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Two boys, both in gray, leaped out of the underbrush, followed by six dozen Fell Beasts.

Edmund groaned. "Can't we get a few minutes of peace?"

No one was there to answer him, for the rest were already fighting. Our horse reared up, lashing out at a Fell Jaguar. We both slid off, one after the other, drawing our swords as we did. We didn't want to hinder the Horse, and both Edmund and I fight better on the ground, back to back.

When I woke up, I had been too occupied with the barrage of emotions and sensations that I had not noticed the sword that I now drew.

_Rhindon, bright and burning, Flame of Narnia, come back to me_.

Thank Aslan.

As we fought, it seemed to me, that with every beast I killed, two more came to take its place. We ought to have won the battle, but soon, they outnumbered us by far more than what they had started with.

Edmund, a Cheeta, two Centaurs besides Oreius, Calumnus, another Faun, and I were all that remained to face thirty-something Beasts, and the two boys, who, though we had been fighting for what seemed to be several hours (and was probably only two or three minutes, at most), were not wounded at all.

As much as I would like to go into detail about valiant thoughts running through my head, the real thought process went something like this:

_Meep._

Despite my less-than-courageous outlook, Edmund seemed to grow stronger and more alive with every new Fell Beast that came his way. This was a comfort to me, for without Edmund's strength, I would not be alive to fight beside him.

Strangely, during battle, my mind seems to disconnect from my body. I think about some of the strangest things, while my body manages to function without the steady, overwhelming thoughts that tend to consume me.

Edmund says I think too much.

I suppose he _is_ right, though I hate to admit it. I do over-think things, wondering whether the decisions I have made are the right ones, when I have no power whatsoever to stop them after I've set them in order.

But, for some reason, when I fight, my head doesn't register any of the physical exertion. My body does everything automatically, which is to my advantage, but otherwise, my thoughts float from one thing to another.

I do my best thinking when I fight.

It's odd, though, knowing that I don't pay attention in battle, yet I'm still alive. I suppose Edmund is responsible. Of course he is, for if he didn't watch my back with the vigilance of a hawk, I would be dead by now.

Edmund surged through the mob of fighters, leaving a trail of dead in his wake. I tried to follow him, but he is far more agile than I am, and in the end I gave up, content to destroy my little corner of the battlefield.

Suddenly, half of the Fell Beasts turned to mist. I spun, and saw Edmund already locked into battle with the older of the two boys. I couldn't see the younger one. No, it wasn't that I couldn't see him; it was that he wasn't there.

Distracted by a devilish sprite, I lost track of Edmund for a minute, but soon almost all the enemy disappeared, transforming into mist. I caught a glimpse of Edmund returning to the fray, and the drastically reduced number of foes shrank back at the sight of him.

The Graes were finished. All that remained were about a dozen Fell Beasts, those not created by the two boys.

I wanted to cheer for Ed, but couldn't waste my breath.

A Jaguar, its black fur matted with grime, leaped toward me, yowling. I rolled out of the way and brought my sword up to block its teeth, but not fast enough. The Beast swiped at me, even as my sword brought it to its death, but the claws caught on my shirt, ripping it – and the skin underneath – to shreds.

I froze, standing stock-still. There was no pain. None. I felt nothing, even as I watched dark red blood seep from the wounds. I heard Edmund yell in a strange, muted, garbled voice. I couldn't make out what he was saying.

Then came to pain.

I screamed a raw, agonized scream. My insides turned to fire. My skin turned to ice. There was nothing but pain, pain, pain. I got tunnel vision. The world went fuzzy. Time froze. The sound of the battle faded to nothing, nothing but the scream. I fell to my knees, and then crumpled to the ground, still in horrified agony. I landed, and the screaming stopped. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't hear. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I couldn't smell. I couldn't feel the pain that was turning me numb. I could only see the steadily growing pool of crimson liquid, flowing from my stomach and chest, and the world, going from red, to brown, to grey, to black.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

I woke to chaos.

Frenzied, panicked voices broke into my hazy consciousness, too loud, too muddled, and too painful. A pair of warm hands pressed down on cloths that were tied around my chest. Sticky liquid ran over my skin. The air smelled like blood. Rainclouds gathered overhead.

Edmund's voce registered in my head, and I focused on its comfort, trying to hear what he was saying.

"…Peter, everything's going to be alright. Got it? I know it looks scary, but…"

It looks scary? What does?

I managed to lift my head, amazed at how heavy it felt, and focused on my chest. I felt the contents of my empty stomach come up, and turned my head away Edmund supported me as I was violently sick, vomiting until all that came up was thin liquid from my stomach. I collapsed back against Edmund, who lowered me gently back to the ground, wiping my mouth with another cloth.

Edmund and I had worked so hard to become as strong as we were, but now, all of the effort was for naught, at least for me. Layers of skin had been peeled off when they'd pulled my shirt away to bandage the wounds, leaving me with a horribly raw stomach. There were four deep scratches, starting at my right shoulder and reaching all the way down to my left hip. Blood and horrid green-grey-brown pus oozed from them, seeping into the make-shift bandage. I recognized the dark blue cloth as the remains of Edmunds shirt. The skin surrounding the gashes was puffy and red.

I forced myself to sit up, looking around slowly. Someone was missing.

"Where's Oreius?" I asked Edmund.

"I sent him to the Cair, to get Lucy. We need her Cordial for you. We won't be able to go home if you're not healed. You certainly can't ride a horse in your condition. Lay back down. I don't want you fainting on me again."

"I didn't faint," I muttered, sliding back down, resting my head on his leg. "I passed out. There's a difference."

"Sure, Peter. Whatever you say."

* * *

><p>We spent hours waiting for Lucy. I drifted in and out of consciousness, and whenever I woke up, Edmund would always be there.<p>

Hours later, a cry rose up from the trees.

"The Valiant Queen has arrived!"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

"Peter!"

I lifted my head off of Edmund's shoulder. Lucy stood before us, blue eyes wide, staring down at me.

"I'm fine, really," I said, not wanting her to get too scared.

She pressed the rims of the Cordial to my mouth. One drop slid down my throat, and warmth started to spread through me, though I had not been cold before.

Within mere seconds of the Cordial being administered, I was on y feet and feeling better than I ever had. I stretched, feeling like my fingertips could touch the sky if I reached high enough. "Let's go home."

_Fin._


End file.
